You did it for the right reasons
by WatchTheSkyBleed
Summary: End of the line. Is Dean now more monster, or human? Dean battles his inner Demons as the world around him begins to burn. There is only one man who can save his tainted soul now, but will he let him? -Destiel- Rated M for language, some violence and sexual content ;). ( I don't own SPN )
1. Chapter 1

_This is it; the end of the line._

Dean lifts the glass to his lips, tilting it and feeling the familiar comforting burn as the whiskey rushes down his throat.

_How could he have let this happen? He'd had fair warning._

The glass hits the wooden table with a clank, and Dean unconsciously refills it.

_Where is Sam now? Is he at peace?_

Dean shakes his head, chuckling humourlessly, knocking back another glass.

_No, there is no peace for hunters, only pain. He did the right thing, the right thing to save his brother. He has to keep telling himself that._

Dean sighs heavily, the bottle of whiskey now drained.

The door behind him creaks open, stalling him from continuing his self-loathing. He isn't even bothered enough to turn around and see who it is, internally praying they're here to end whatever the hell he's become now. He listens, leaning back in the splintery wooden chair, as someone approaches from behind. They pause as they reach him, and Dean hears uncomfortable shuffling next to him.

"Hello Dean."

Dean swallows, the all too familiar voice involuntarily speeding up his heartbeat, and faltering his resolve.


	2. Chapter 2

**-Flashback-**

Dean sits up, the blade still clutched painfully in his grip. He feels...unusual. His emotions seem almost non-existent, squashed so far down he doesn't know whether he will ever be able to reach them again. But, weirdly, he has never felt so..._Alive_. Every fibre of him is on fire, but in the most delicious way. He finally notices Crowley, standing next to him, almost smirking in satisfaction. Dean wonders why he doesn't want to tear the smug bastard a new one, like his old self would have done by now, but he knows the answer to that. He isn't him any more, and he probably won't be ever again. That life is gone, discarded like an empty pie wrapper. Bye bye apple pie life.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

Dean raises an eyebrow at Crowley, not expecting the sudden conversation. He can't be bothered playing this stupid charade of being civil, he just wants to get the hell out of this room and explore. Ignoring Crowley's question, he pushes himself easily from the bed, making his way out of the room, still grasping the blade. He hear's Crowley shout after him as he makes his way down the long corridor, intending to leave the safety of the bunker.

"You might want to glance in a mirror before you leave, _boy_!"

Dean shrugs off the comment, mentally telling Crowley to go fuck himself, and walks into the main room of the bunker. He pauses as he notices the tall figure leaning on the table, long hair slightly askew, his skin slightly paler than the last time he remembers him. Sam's gaze flicks up, he must have heard or sensed someone come into the room. His gaze fixes on Dean, and instantly his eyes widen in fear, taking an unstable step back from the table. Dean stays still, watching his reaction. He can feel the fear and outright panic radiating from him like a lost child. Instead of trying to calm Sam down, he finds himself grinning like a freakin maniac.

"Hey Sammy."

**-End flashback-**

* * *

Dean clears his throat roughly, his eyes concentrating on the table in front of him. He can't look Cas in the eye right now, he just can't.

"How did you find me?"

At the question, Dean hears Cas stride across the room, dragging one of the discarded chairs from near the wall, and placing it right next to Dean. Dean instantly feels his entire body tense as Cas sits down in the chair, placing his own hands on the table, almost touching his. Dean still refuses to cast his eyes away from the worn table, his jaw clenched to what feels like breaking point.

"I followed the trail of dead bodies."

Dean flinches, but he quickly pushes the small throb of guilt and remorse down. Dean keeps quiet, his hands now twirling the glass on the table. If he doesn't say anything, maybe Cas will take that as a hint and leave him the hell alone to continue drowning his sorrows. But he knows that's as good as a pipe dream where Cas is concerned.

"Listen, Dean, I understand that-"

Dean doesn't realize what he's done, until he feels the glass splinter in his hand, and he barely feels the accompanying sting when pieces of glass slice into his palm. He lets the remaining pieces of glass slip from his grip, and they clatter onto the table. Blood trickles down his palm, tiny drops landing on the table. He feels Cas's hand grip his wrist; but its not in a harsh way. It's gentle and caring, but firm enough that Dean can't easily wriggle out of it. For the first time, Dean's eyes flick to Cas's, and he immediately regrets it. The softness in them, the forgiveness he doesn't fucking deserve. He swallows thickly and drops his gaze. He can feel Cas's thumb caressing the bare skin at his wrist, and even the small contact makes him want to crash all his defences down, be vulnerable, let someone in, let _Cas_ in. But he's always been too stubborn for his own damn good.

He pulls his arm away, and surprisingly, Cas lets him. He pulls a cloth from his pocket, and wraps it securely around the cut, which has now mostly stopped bleeding. He'll rinse the drying blood off later.

"You should go Cas, unless your're itching for a fight."

"You won't harm me Dean."

The trust oozing from Cas's words stuns Dean. After everything he's already done, what he probably will still do, and to top it off what he is now, Cas still _trusts him_?

Just as Dean opens his mouth, though he has no clue what's going to tumble out, there's a loud knock on the door. Dean glances towards it, then at a confused looking Cas. Dean rises, his hand automatically reaching towards the first blade, tucked securely into his belt.

"Cas, were you followed?"

Cas rises, shaking his head.

"I don't think so."

Dean shakes his head, his gut telling him that he was. Fucking Angels. The feathery pricks just can't mind their own business. The knocks on the door start up again, but they get louder, eventually erupting into fierce bangs. Yeah, they were definitely caving the door in. Dean whips out the first blade, and before he even realizes, he's standing in front of Cas, protectively. The door falls inwards, and Dean growls low, like a lion, building himself up to unleash the greatest roar to ever shake the plains. He knows one thing for certain; this son of a bitch is getting nowhere near Cas.


	3. Chapter 3

Two tall, lean figures walk into the room, both of them males. Dean can hear himself growling louder, his body tensing to pounce. The taller one, who has an archangel blade gripped tightly by his side, throws a stern look over Dean's shoulder, his gaze locking on Cas.

"Castiel, you were warned not to pursue this..._abomination._"

The Angel sneers the last word, as if the very thought of Dean is staining. Dean growls fiercely, stepping forward, but hesitates as Cas grips his arm tightly.

"Perinel, this doesn't have to end in more bloodshed."

The Angel, Perinel, nods in agreement.

"You are correct, it does not. Not our blood, that is."

No more talking. Perinel aims directly for Dean, his archangel blade now raised, intending to strike him down as quickly as possible. Dean immediately goes on red alert. He wants to wait until the douche bag is close enough, then cut him in fucking half. He isn't scared of two clowns like these, he can easily take them.

Just as Perinel reaches Dean, and Dean grasps his own blade low, intending to plunge the blade in his stomach then slice upwards, he loses his balance as a strong and insistent force pushes him out of the line of fire, knocking him into the unoccupied table, and sending it back a few inches.

Dean watches in silent horror as Perinel doesn't notice he isn't aiming for Dean any more, or maybe he just doesn't give a rats ass. Dean steadies himself and rushes back to push Cas out of the way; but he's too late. The blade plunges into Cas's chest, and Cas cries out in pain. Perniel's expression changes to one of pity as he withdraws his blade, and Cas crumples to the floor, clutching his chest, blood already seeping through his fingers. Seeing Cas in agony on the floor, and the stench of metal now caressing his nostrils, Dean loses his hold on his dark side. The Angels were going to fucking regret this.

* * *

Its over within a minute. Blood stains Dean's blade, and most of his face and clothes, even some in his hair, and spatters hang on the walls like proud pieces of art. The Angels are dead, their vessels ripped to pieces, beyond repair or even recognition. Dean's panting, sweat mixing in with the blood on him. Pure hatred and uncontrolled rage is throbbing in his veins, and he's sure he's going to implode. His emotions were very unstable since he came back from, well, the dead. The bastards hadn't pushed, but _catapulted_ him head first over the edge.

A low agonized groan grabs Dean's attention, and he sees Cas, lying on his back on the floor, blood soaking his shirt and fingers; but still alive. The dark emotions disperse as quickly as they had emerged. Only one thought was drumming in his mind now; save _his_ Angel.

Shoving his blade into his belt, he kneels down next to Cas, his hand on the one Cas has clutched to his chest. Cas's eyes are unfocused and glazed, staring up at the ceiling. Waves of pure panic bubble under the surface of Dean's skin; what if he can't save him?

* * *

**-Flashback-**

Dean watches as Sam's mouth opens, then closes, opens, then closes again. The grin is still plastered on his face, but for some reason, it doesn't feel as good as it did a minute ago. Sam is no longer backing away from him, but he isn't coming closer either.

A few minutes of tense silence stretch on. Eventually, Sam runs a shaky hand through his hair, never taking his eyes off his brother.

"But...how? It's not...you're..."

Dean rolls his eyes in annoyance. Why is Sam wasting time talking? He's back, and he's far from dead. But Sam looks far from happy. He looks...terrified. Dean tilts his head to the side, a confused expression on his face.

"What's the matter with you?"

Sam's eyes widen, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Me! You died and your're acting like its no big deal! And...your eyes!"

Why is Sam suddenly obsessing about his damn eyes?

Dean marches to the nearest bathroom, throwing the door open carelessly, causing it's hinges to creak painfully. Switching the light on, he stares into the mirror, his jaw clenching tightly. He doesn't recognise what's staring back at eyes are black, pure demonic black. His face is deathly pale, cuts and bruises plastered all over it. His hand circles gingerly around his chest, and comes into contact with the not healed hole from where Metatron stabbed him. _Killed him_.

His mind trails back to what Crowley had said, about Cain, the blade, its reluctance to let go. He bares his teeth maliciously. The smarmy demonic bastard. His blood starts to boil, igniting a fire in his veins. A fire that wants to consume everything, and everyone. Unstoppable. Unquenchable. He's going to make Crowley suffer, way past the point of begging for the sweet release of death.

After all, paybacks a bitch.

**-end flashback-**

* * *

"Cas, come on man, you gotta stay with me."

Dean pries Cas's hand away, to get a good look at the damage. Blood is still draining from the hole in his chest, but the blade missed his heart completely. Lucky son of a bitch. Dean rips the sleeve off his own shirt, using it to apply pressure to the wound. He glances back to Cas's face, and his eyelids are closed, and Dean freezes, his blood instantly turning to ice. Is Cas?

He uses his free hand to open one on Cas's eyelids, searching for signs of life, and he sighs with heavy relief as he see's that Cas is still alive. Weak and badly injured, but alive. Dean leans back, still applying pressure to the wound.

He has to take care of Cas, make sure he recovers and gets back on his feet. But...how? Its been so long since Dean had to actually take care of someone else, he isn't sure he still knows how. He sure as hell doesn't look after himself any more, because he simply doesn't care. He might die tomorrow, and he just doesn't give a crap. But Cas...Cas is a whole different story.

The bleeding eventually slows down enough for Dean to release most of the pressure. Cas is still unconscious, but Dean knows that's better for now. If he was awake, he'd be in unbelievable agony, and Dean _couldn't_ watch that. He looks at the scattered remains of the Angels, and he realizes they have to move. More Angels will come.

He knows he shouldn't move Cas, not while he's this injured, but there's no other option. He arranges himself into a crouching position, and then scoops Cas up, as gently as possible, into his arms, and carefully carries him out of the door, bridal style.

The sooner they leave town, the better.

* * *

**Thanks for the follows and stuff guys, much appreciated :) **


	4. Chapter 4

Dean pulls into the motel, climbing out of the car, instantly getting soaked. He curses and enters the reception, the door clanging shut behind him. He wipes his sleeve over his face. The kid at the reception rolls his eyes, placing his 'book' down behind the counter. Dean wips a wad of cash out from his jacket and slides some notes across the counter. The kid takes them and shoves them into his own back pocket.

"One room, one bed."

The boy nods and turns around, collecting a set of keys and handing them over to Dean. He snatches them and is back out the door. Tearing open the back seat of the impala and glancing around, he scoops the still unconscious Cas into his arms and awkwardly locks the car. He hunches over while he walks, his jacket covering Cas as best he can.

He manages to open the door to their room and kicks it shut behind him. He lowers Cas onto the bed, turning the nearest lamp on. Cas is still breathing, and it calms him down a little. Cas's borrowed grace may be depleting, but he knows Cas is strong, whether he's human or Angel.

He brings a wooden chair closer, keeping careful watch. He may have failed Cas the last time, but it is not happening again, even if he has to stay awake for an eternity. Cas is now his priority, and that is it. He will take care of him, no matter what.

* * *

It takes a good few days, but Cas finally wakes up.

Dean is leaving the bathroom when a familiar voice startles him.

"Perinel, no..please!"

Dean shudders and his hand automatically reaches for Cas's. Cas's eyes snap open as Dean touches him. A whimper escapes his lips, and his body tense's like a frightened feline. Dean slowly withdraws his hand, but sits down on the bed, his eyes roving over Cas's face. His hair is sticking out all over the place, there are dark bags under his eyes, and his face looks much older than Dean ever thought it could. His usually calm blue eyes are wide, tears escaping from the corners.

Dean feels like he's been run through the heart.

The tense silence stretches out, and Dean keeps quiet, not wanting to frighten Cas even more by talking. Cas's eyes eventually shift from Dean, and they dart around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Dean waits patiently, studying Cas's expression. The good thing is that Dean knows Cas will be ok now, he won't be leaving him any time soon. This makes Dean unbelievably happy, an emotion that has deserted him for so long now, it almost feels alien.

Dean snaps out of his thoughts as a hand tugs at his sleeve. Cas is staring up at him, his mouth slightly agape, as if he's trying to form words, but can't.

The hand on his sleeve doesn't loosen, so Dean decides it's best to open his own mouth.

"Cas?"

Cas flinches, but doesn't move. Dean frowns, why is Cas so frightened?

"Cas, are you with me?"

After a few tense moments, Cas slowly nods his head, his gaze never leaving Dean. Dean lets out a sigh of relief.

He makes to get up and get Cas something to drink, but the grip on his sleeve gets tighter, and Cas's eyes widen even more, if that's even possible.

"Cas, I'm just gunna go get you some water, ok? I'm not leaving you, I promise."

Cas shakes his head. His chest begins to rise and fall dangerously fast, and Dean can sense he's having a panic attack. The hand on his sleeve seems to get slacker, as Cas loses himself in his own panic. Dean is acting before he even realizes what he's doing. He shuffles up to the top of the bed, gently manoeuvring Cas so that he is against Dean's chest, and holds him, one arm locked around his waist, and one gently combing through his hair.

Cas immediately responds, even in his zoned out state. He buries his face in Dean's chest, tiny whimpers escaping from his lips. Dean has to admit, he does feel a little uncomfortable. But, it's not about him right now. Cas needs him, he needs a source of comfort and safety, and Dean is going to make damn sure that Cas gets it.

Dean doesn't know how long he and Cas stay like this, until Cas eventually quiets, his breathing calmer, and Dean can feel his heartbeat is steady.

"Dean?"

The sudden quiet voice almost causes him to jump out of his skin. He swallows and peers down, his eyes resting on the top of Cas's head.

"Yeah Cas?"

"I'm sorry."

Wait, what? Why was Cas apologizing to him?

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

Cas pulls back, his blue eyes meeting Dean's green ones. Dean feels the urge to look away tug at him, but he swats it away.

"I should have checked I wasn't being followed, this is my fault."

Dean's mouth falls open before he can stop it.

"Cas, are you serious?"

Cas frowns.

"Why would I not be serious?"

Dean shakes his head, and he pinches his brow.

"Cas, if this is anyone's fault, it's mine, ok? I should have covered my tracks better, so that you couldn't find me."

Cas shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. Dean quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Why are you smiling?"

The smile gets wider.

"Because I would have found you eventually Dean, no matter how hard you tried to hide."

They stare at each other, and Dean finds himself grinning like a Cheshire cat. He's actually happy, and he doesn't even feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

What the hell is going on with him?

* * *

Dean spends the next few days tending to Cas, even though Cas continuously tries to stop him. But he has to admit, he actually enjoys caring for someone again. He didn't realized he missed it until now.

Memories of Sam try to worm themselves into his thoughts, and it takes him a huge amount of effort to keep them at bay. Sam is the past, and he has to remember that. Sam doesn't want or need him any-more, and he has to accept that.

Dean nips out to grab some food for Cas, and when he gets back, he's not surprised at what he finds. Cas is scurrying around the room, picking up the mess that Dean had told him to leave for when he got back. Cas doesn't look at Dean as he enters, but continues to clean up. Dean rolls his eyes, placing the food down on the table, and striding over to Cas. He takes the rubbish from Cas's arms and discards it back onto the floor, much to Cas's annoyance.

"Dean! I just-"

"Yeah well, I told you to leave it for me, now come on, back to bed."

Cas huffs as Dean effortlessly guides him back towards the bed, pushing him down into a sitting position. Cas shuffles back onto pillows, watching Dean.

Dean nods in satisfaction and fetches the food over, handing the bag to Cas. He sits on the side of the bed, watching as Cas places the bag onto his lap, but doesn't open it.

"You should eat it while it's still warm."

Cas frowns at the bag, as if it has done him some great wrong.

"I do still have some grace left Dean, I don't really need-"

"Cas, we both know that is bullshit. Your grace is near enough gone, you probably spent the last of it healing. Let's just be glad you're alive, ok? Now eat the food."

Cas continues to frown at the bag, but doesn't make to open it.

"Do you really want me to force feed you? Cause you know I will."

Cas's eyes flicker to Dean, whose face is one of complete seriousness. Cas relents and fumbles open the bag, digging out a burger, and he takes a small bite, swallows, then attempts to put it back in the bag.

Dean takes the burger from him and shuffles closer, tearing a chunk from it. He holds it in front of Cas's lips, and Cas stubbornly keeps his lips sealed.

"Cas, open your mouth."

Cas shakes his head, his expression like a stubborn child refusing to eat his vegetables.

Cas's mouth snaps open with a yelp as he feels something tickle his side, and Dean shoves the piece of burger into his mouth, clamping his hand over it to stop Cas spitting it out.

Cas soon realize's he's fighting a losing battle, and he obediently eats the rest of the burger, under Dean's watchful gaze. He finishes it and gestures at Dean.

"Happy?"

A playful grin dances on Dean's lips.

"For now, yeah."

* * *

**-Flashback-**

Dean marches from the bathroom, heading straight past a bewildered looking Sam, straight for the stairs. He can feel the anger and hatred building with every step he takes, threatening to rip him apart. He has to get his hands on Crowley. Right. Now.

He registers a voice, but he hardly acknowledges it, it doesn't seem important right now. He flings open the door of the bunker, the cool night air hitting him instantly. Something grabs at his shoulder, and on instinct he grasps it, bone crushingly tight. A loud yell rings out, and he spins around, his teeth bared.

Sam kneels in front of him, his teeth gritted, trying desperately to pry his hand from Dean's clutches. Dean doesn't let go straight away. He grips tighter, and he can feel the bones cracking under his skin. Sam lets out a strangled cry, and Dean realizes him. Sam pants, his injured hand cradled in his lap. Dean towers over him, his expression holding not even a shred of regret or sympathy.

"Dean, come back inside, we have to figure out-"

A sharp slap to his face cuts him off, and Sam stares up at Dean, shock and hurt radiating from him.

"We don't need to do fuck all, little _brother_. I'm going to rip Crowley apart, bit by bit. You can stay here and wallow in your pathetic self pity."

Sam blanches, swallowing.

"Dean, we're brothers. Just let me help-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP OR I SWEAR I WILL RIP OUT YOUR DAMN TONGUE!"

Sam silences, and Dean can see his eyes glistening. Dean crouches, so that he and Sam are now on eye level. Sam attempts to look away, but Dean grips his face, forcing him to look at him.

"You listen to me, and listen good. I, am leaving. For good. You don't get to decide when we're family and when we're not, not any more. I'm in charge now. You even attempt to find me, and I will come back here and I will make what's left of your life _a living hell_. I think we both understand that threat, don't we?"

Sam doesn't say anything, his gaze locking with Dean's. Dean almost wishes he wasn't so angry, so full of hate, just so he could at least feel something about this. But he just doesn't. All he can feel and think of are all the times Sam has turned on him, betrayed him. He can't see any of the good, just like it didn't even exist in the first place. He smirks and release's Sam's face, and Sam's head drops, momentarily staring at the ground.

When he glances back up, Dean is nowhere in sight.

**-end flashback-**

* * *

Cas is fast asleep now, Dean can hear him snoring quietly. Dean is sitting the lone chair, drinking from a bottle of cheap whiskey. He wish's it would have more of an effect on him, he doesn't know why he still bothers to drink it. It's probably just habit. He glances at the clock on the wall, and it's exactly midnight. Cas shifts in his sleep, and Dean watches him, a smile tugging at his lips.

After a while, Dean decides to turn on the tv, low, just for some sort of entertainment. He pushes himself up from the chair, and stops dead in his tracks. His senses rocket sky high, and he swiftly turns, his eyes flickering to the far side of the room. He snarls, his fists clenching by his sides.

A dark figure is leaning against the wall, a dangerous smirk on it's lips.

"_Crowley_."


	5. Chapter 5

**-Flashback-**

It's taken Dean months, but he's here, he's finally found what he's been endlessly searching for. He throws open the wooden door, and it snaps at the hinges. His eyes dart around the darkened room, his breathing surprisingly calm.

A lamp suddenly clicks on, and there Crowley stands, looking Dean and up down, a tired look on his face. Dean lets a malicious smirk curl his lips, the first blade clenched in his hand.

"Well well, you do look worse for wear. And here's little old me thinking you'd be out endlessly partying and banging strippers. My mistake."

Dean chuckles darkly.

"Your mistake was ever meeting me. Now I'm gunna rip you to fucking shreds."

Dean rushes forward, and makes to tackle Crowley, but he vanishes.

"Come on, I'm not gunna let you stab me idiot. Can't we be civil about this?"

Dean spins around, and Crowley is now standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. Dean rushes, faster this time, but he only ends up falling through the doorway and onto the cold ground outside. A loud growl erupts from his throat as he pushes himself to his feet, spotting Crowley a few feet away, in the cool night air.

"YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER YOU SMARMY DICK!"

"My my, the mouth on you lately. It's a shame, if you weren't acting like a rabid animal you could be so much more."

Dean sneers, his body shaking from the force of his anger.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE MORE, I JUST WANT YOU FUCKING DEAD!"

"Well, I'm afraid that's not going to be happening any time soon. Take my advice, go and have some fun, get used to the new you, and then come find me. Toodles."

And with a small wave, his vanishes into the night. Dean stares at where he was, he doesn't know for how long. His heightened emotions are influencing his decisions, but how in the hell is he supposed to stop them?

**-End Flashback-**

* * *

Crowley grins, but it's not a friendly grin. Dean growls low in his throat, and takes a few strides forward, but he pauses as his eyes catch Cas, who is still fast asleep. Crowley's eye's flicker from Dean to Cas, and a small chuckle escapes his lips.

"Oh, we wouldn't want to wake the sleeping angel now would we?"

Dean grits his teeth, his eyes lingering on Cas.

"What do _you_ want."

Crowley tuts, taking a step closer.

"You know squirrel, I'm not getting the animosity you have towards me lately. Care to explain?"

Dean scoffs, shaking his head at Crowley. Was this fucker for real?

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're the fucking reason I'm...I'm..."

"A Demon? A monster? An..._Abomination_? Hmmm, I wonder what your poor mother would think of you now."

Dean flinches, the low blow hitting him like a concrete wall. But he is not giving Crowley the fucking satisfaction of watching him crumble, no chance. He clenchs his fists, a smirk plastered on his face.

"You really think that's going to rile me up Crowley? Come on, you're gunna have to do better than that."

Crowley's eyes flash dangerously, as if that is exactly what he wanted Dean to say. Crowley shoves a hand into his pocket, pulling out a phone, and tosses it to Dean, who catches it on reflex. Dean raises an eyebrow at Crowley. Crowley rolls his eyes and gestures at the phone.

"Play the last voice mail on it."

Dean's curiosity pushes him into playing it, and he holds it to his ear, his eyes never leaving Crowley. An unfamiliar gruff male voice speaks.

"Hello there, Demonic scum. Me and my associates are hoping to get in contact with Dean Winchester. We thought he'd might like to know we have his little brother, and, if he doesn't willingly give himself to us, we're gunna tear him apart, piece by piece. Isn't that right, _Sammy_?

There is a pause, and then a pain filled shout, which Dean instantly recognises, comes through the phone.

"Your choice."

The voice mail ends, and Dean lowers the phone, his face hard as stone. How did they even get to Sam?

"Now, aren't you grateful I bothered to find you? Seems like moose is in way over his head. Time for squirrel to rush to the rescue."

Dean tosses the phone back to Crowley, his jaw clenched.

A moan from the bed catches both of their attention, and Cas sits up, rubbing his eyes. His eyes flicker to Crowley, and he jumps off the bed, and stands next to Dean. Crowley gives him a small wave.

"Castiel, nice to see you up from your nap. I was under the impression Angel's didn't need sleep?"

Cas ignores him, and his gaze searches Dean's face, but Dean refuses to look him in the eye.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

A bored yawn comes from Crowley, and he glances at his watch.

"As eventful as this is, daddy has to go and take care of business. Bye boys."

Crowley vanishes, but Cas barely acknowledges him. Dean seems to be in his own world, his face blank but tense.

Cas steers him gently towards the bed, and sits him down on it. He perch's next to him, laying a comforting hand on top of his. Dean visibly flinches from the contact, but he doesn't pull away. His eyes lift up to Cas's.

A shaky breathe escapes Cas as he stares into Dean's eyes. The raw emotion in them is overwhelming. Sadness, guilt, regret, and so many more. Cas can feel his own welling up, the tears making his vision blurry.

Dean swallows, and his voice comes out strained.

"The Angels have Sam."

* * *

**Short chapter, I know, but I had to cut it at this point because the next chapter is going to be pretty long :3 Thanks for reading so far! **


	6. Chapter 6

"What? How did they even-"

"I don't know, ok Cas! I'm not psychic!"

Dean presses his lips shut. Why is he snapping at Cas? He's only trying to help him. He closes his eye's, trying to block out his last memory of Sam, of what he said and did to his little brother. It was unforgivable, even among all of the other things they'd both done to each other.

He feels a thumb stroking the his hand, and he grits his teeth, so he doesn't pull away like he's on fire.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters now is we find Sam and get him to safety. You know I am right Dean."

Dean shakes his head, scared to speak in case his voice breaks. Cas squeezes his hand.

"Dean, I know you feel like you can't face him, but if you don't, they will kill him. Possibly even torture him first. I know you do not want that."

Dean sighs, running his free hand down his face.

"Of course I don't."

Cas nods, standing and attempting to tug Dean off the bed, but Dean doesn't budge.

"Dean, come on."

"I can't."

Dean expects Cas to shout at him, maybe even curse at him, or forceably try and drag him up. But he doesn't. He kneels down in front of him, so that Dean has no choice but to look at him. Damn those blue eyes. Dean swallows, feeling his palms start to clam up. What the heck is wrong with him? It's Cas, so why is he feeling...aroused?

He shifts on the bed, attempting to put some distance between his body and the kneeling Cas, but Cas puts a warm hand onto his thigh, and it takes a lot of willpower for him not to march away.

"Cas, personal space man."

But instead of moving away, Cas merely pushes himself closer to Dean's lower half, now placing his other hand on Dean's thigh. Dean recognizes the look in his eyes, he's seen it before on plenty of women. Oh crap, what is going on?

"Cas, what are you-"

A long finger pressed against his lips shuts him right up. Dean can feel his eyes almost popping out of his skull, especially as Cas's hand's start to run upward's, pausing at his belt. Cas tilts his head, his eyes scanning Dean's face. Yeah, he doesn't have the faintest clue what Cas is up to or why, but he has to ask himself, we hasn't he stopped him?

As Cas start's to fumble with his belt, Dean can't help but open his mouth again.

"Cas-"

Cas pauses this time, Dean's belt almost completely off.

"Dean, I realize you like control, but just allow me to have it this once, alright?"

Dean doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just watches on as his belt is discarded quickly, and Cas starts to undo the button's on his jeans.

He doesn't understand what he's doing, he really doesn't. He should be telling Cas to stop, that he isn't...gay? Or bisexual even. He's never done anything with another dude, and he's pretty sure neither has Cas. But yet here he is, just letting Cas undress him.

But it doesn't feel like a bad thing.

Dean shifts so that Cas can tug his jeans down, quickly followed by his boxers. His cheeks feel like they're burning...is he fucking blushing? Great, I probably look like a fucking high school cheerleader.

He gasps as Cas grips onto him, his slightly rough hands slowly pumping up and down. His fingers grip at the bed sheets, and he looks down, Cas looking up into his eyes.

Cas use's his free hand to push at Dean's chest, and Dean just lets himself be pushed back onto the bed.

What is Cas gunna-

He almost screams out as he feels himself slide into Cas's warm wet mouth, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself. Fuck, is this really happening right now?

He groans as Cas's tongue joins in, and Dean has to force himself not to cum right now. The familiar pooling in his groin is getting more intense already. He doesn't know how, but Cas is damn good at this.

Cas's warm hands are not back on his bare thighs, and it's making his groin ache even more. Hell, forget big breasted blonde's right now, this is the best oral he's ever fucking had.

Gasping, he grips harder at the bed sheets, sweat shining on his forehead from trying to hold himself back. This feels amazing, and he really doesn't want it to end.

But, there's only so long you can fight your own urges.

Dean's back arches of the bed as he let's go, his fingers twisting in the sheets.

"CAS!"

Panting heavily, Dean doesn't know how long it takes for him to start to come back to reality.

Did he black out? It sure as hell feels like he did. He pushes himself back into a sitting position, noticing he's fully dressed again. His body his still buzzing, but at the same time, all of the tenseness that's been building up inside him for the past few months is gone. Just gone. He glances around, noticing he's alone in the motel room.

Where the Hell is Cas?

* * *

**-Flashback-**

Sitting at the near enough deserted bar, Dean down's yet another shot. Hey, as long as this shit hole didn't run out on him, he's going nowhere for the foreseeable future. Fuck Crowley, he'll get that smarmy bastard eventually. Right now, he's going to shit faced and possibly laid, although the pickings in this bar are pretty sparse. There's an older bleach blonde woman, who's somehow managed to get herself into a skin tight leopard dress with matching heels, she keeps throwing him winks. There was a younger waitress, her raven hair in a ponytail, but yeah she has a good rack on her. She's hardly glanced at him though. Apart from that, zilch.

Sighing, he knocks back another shot. Luck was obviously not with him tonight. All he wants to do is forget, even for just a little while, but that seems like too fucking much to ask.

Dean glances at the door to the bar as he feels the cold night air blow in, and he finds himself just staring. A petite red head, her hair curled and rolling past her shoulders, stride's inside, the door swinging shut behind her. Her make up is nice, it's nowhere near on the verge of slutty, and Dean highly approves of the black leather pants and matching jacket. She glances around, her eyes locking on him.

Well, maybe luck is with him after all.

She strides over, sitting on a bar stool next to him. She flashes him a big smile, offering her hand.

"Hey there, I'm Marcie."

Dean smiles back, taking her hand.

"Dean."

She giggles, and Dean knows instantly he's getting lucky tonight. He gestures toward's the bar.

"Can I get you a drink?"

She bites her lip, looking him up and down.

"Well, maybe you have something I'd like more back at your place?"

Damn, this chick is more than easy. But hey, who is he to complain? More time for sex, less time for stupid ass small talk. He nod's, throwing on his jacket, and offering her his arm, which she quickly takes.

Dean takes her back to his motel room, locking the door behind them. Yeah, this isn't one of the best motel's he's ever stayed in, but it'll do.

Before he even has time to take his jacket off, Marcie is pressing up against him, maneuvering him over to the bed. He let's her push him down onto it, the bed springs creaking loudly in protest. She straddles him, running her hands over his denim shirt.

"Now, what should I do with you?"

Dean smirks, placing his hands above his head.

"Whatever you want sweetheart."

Giggling, she moves one of her hand's toward's her waist.

A faint glint of steel catches Dean's eye.

_Fucking damn it._

He shoves her off, and scrambles off the bed. She easily pushes herself back to her feet, the lust from her eyes now gone. She whips the archangel blade out, gripping it tightly. Dean sneers at her, pulling the first blade from the back of his jeans.

Oh, this angelic bitch is going down.

"Well, you do pull of the whole slut thing really good, I'll give you that."

She smirks now, inching closer to him.

_Come on then, try me._

"Dean Winchester, you are only making this harder than it has to be."

Chuckling, Dean raises his blade.

"That's kind of my prerogative honey."

With a yell, she lunges at him, trying to get him in the heart. He easily dodges her, shoving her into the bedside cabinet, which splinters with a loud crunch. She get's back to her feet, lunging at him again. So predictable, at least give him a fucking challenge. As she reaches him, he trips her up, and she lands with a thud onto her back. No more fucking around tonight. He plunges his blade into her chest, and he watches on with a shit eating grin on his face as she stills. He removes the blade, wiping it on the side of his jacket.

Great, now the Angel's were after his ass too. He's going to have to law low for a while.

_Great._

**-End Flashback-**


	7. Chapter 7

Shit, he has to find Cas, he has a seriously shitty feeling about this.

Sliding off of the bed, he fishes in his jeans pocket for the key's to his car...only to find them missing.

What the...

It quickly dawns on him that Cas must have took them when he was pretty out of it.

That sneaky little angel.

So basically he could be anywhere right now!

Dean almost jumps out of his skin as his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket.

Retrieving it, he instantly recognizes the number, and prepares himself with a deep breath, tapping the accept button.

"Crowley, you listen here you son of a bitch, I don't have time for-"

"_Dean_."

Dean freezes, his eyes widening at the rough familiar voice.

"Wait, _Cas_? Why the hell are you calling from Crowley's cellphone? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry Dean, but I'm going to get Sam, without you."

Dean's hand clench's around his phone so tightly, he can hear it groan in protest.

"Cas, get your feathery ass back here or so help me-"

"Dean, it's okay, I have...help."

Dean doesn't like the way that sounds, not one damn bit.

"What, Crowley? You know he'll just screw you over the first chance he gets!"

There is a tense drawn out silence from the other end, until the Devil himself answers from the other end.

"That's rather rude, Squirrel, seeing as I am once again putting my neck on the line for you lot."

"What's in it for you, huh? You lay one hand on Cas or Sam and I'll-"

"Yes yes, we've been over the whole 'roast me over a spit fire' routine before, just let me and the angel take care of this, we'll bring your precious moose back in one piece, scout's honour and all that."

"DAMMIT CROWLEY!"

To Dean's shock, the phone line goes's dead moments later.

Did that son of a bitch just hang up on him?

FUCK THIS!

Dean immediately redials, but only reaches the answering machine this time.

With a loud growl, he shoves his phone into his jacket pocket, throwing open the door to the motel room.

Stepping out into the chilly night, he stride's into the open and well lit reception, startling the teenager parked behind the front desk.

The acne ridden kid only watches on as Dean strides around the counter, shoving him out of the way to access his computer.

"Um, sir-"

"Shut the hell up kid, I haven't got time to explain."

The teenager opens his mouth to protest further, but thinks better of it, and leans awkwardly on the wall instead.

Opening the tracking website, he inputs Sam's phone data, praying that Sam still has his phone on him at least.

Accessing the system, he find's the signal at a nearby street address, quickly memorizing it and closing the website.

Look's like luck just might be on his side for once.

Eyeing the startled teenager, Dean points a finger warningly at him.

"I was never here, got it?"

He nods hastily, licking his cracked lips, as Dean exits the reception, glancing to make sure he isn't being watched, then disappears into the night.

* * *

Arriving at the place where he tracked Sam's phone signal too, Dean conceals himself behind a large dumpster, surveying the darkened abandoned building laid out in front of him.

Look's like no one's home from the outside, but he sure can sense those feathery bastard's in there.

Growling low, he retrieves the first blade from his waistband.

Then where the hell are Crowley and Cas?

Surveying the area, he makes his way quietly to the broken in first floor window of the building, jumping inside with ease.

The building is even more decrepit inside, the once bright paint on the walls beyond peeling, the floorboards dusty and covered in recent muddy footprints.

Dean cautiously manoeuvres his way down the left corridor, and stops when he reaches a sharp corner, hearing voices coming from a slightly ajar door only a few yards away.

"Sam Winchester, all we want to know is the location of your brother, and we will gladly put you out of your misery."

A harsh fit of coughing follows the flat monotone voice, before a rough and broken voice echoes from the room.

"Go to hell."

Dean listens, his blood beginning to boil, as heavy footsteps move in the room, soon followed by an ear splitting scream.

_Sam_.

Dean's hand tightens around his blade.

No one touches his fucking brother, NO ONE!

Marching round the corner, he fully kicks open the door to the room, the force sending the rigidity wooden door right off its hinges and to the ground.

Dean immediately takes note of the four people present in the candle lit room, as they all stare wide eyed back at him.

Sam is situated in the centre, bound to a metal chair with thick rusty chains, bloody and beaten to hell.

A tall, lanky man in a suit, his raven hair slicked back, is stood just to the side of Sam, and two more men to the other far side, both of stocky build and in matching suits.

Dean snarls, and the two body builders glance over at the lankier one.

The lanky man doesn't seem the least bothered by Dean's sudden entrance, only smiling over at him.

"Just the man we have been searching for, welcome Dean Winchester."

Dean glances at his brother, who is breathing heavily and staring up at him with wide hazel eyes, almost pleading for him to leave.

But Dean won't, he can't do that.

No matter what, he has to protect Sam.

Dean points the first blade at the lanky man in front of him.

"Who the fuck are you all?"

The lanky one bows slightly, but his green eyes never leave Dean.

"I am Lestinel, a pleasure to finally meet you."

"And your lacky's?"

"Their names are not important."

"Fine, I don't really give a crap anyway. Now how about you all get the fuck out of here, before I gut you all from head to toe."

Lestinel frowns, his pale hands sliding into his suit pockets.

"No, you will not."

"The fuck I wont!"

Before Dean can spring at Lestinel, something hits him sharply over the back of the head, sending him crashing to the dirty floor.

The hit is so hard it disorientates him, and as his vision blurs he feels the all too familiar hot liquid trickle down his face.

"DEAN!"

At Sam's panicked shout, Dean reaches out blindly for his blade, but it is kicked out of his reach by a black polished shoe.

"Tut tut, we can't have that now, can we?"

Dean glares up at Lestinel, who is now towering over him.

Who the fuck even hit him?

Lestinel smiles broadly as a petite blonde woman in yet another matching suit comes to stand next to him, a tire wrench in her hands.

"Thank you Ermelda, I fear Dean Winchester was about to start a fight, and I just had this suit dry cleaned."

The blonde nods curtly, and Dean comes to the realization that he's now royally fucked.

He can't save Sam, he was way to careless.

He scrunches his eyes shut, attempting to push himself back to his feet.

Lestinel sighs tiredly, planting a foot firmly on his back and pushing him back to the filthy flooring.

"Ah ah, you will only make this worse for yourself."

Ermelda gestures over at Sam, who is now trying furiously to wriggle out of his thick chains, his tired eyes locked on Dean.

"Now what do we do with him?"

Lestinel glances over, before giving a light shrug.

"There is no further use for him. Lonnie, Yarnie, the pleasure is all yours."

Dean grits his teeth, as he hears the two lacky's start to approach on Sam.

Dean yells out as he is suddenly yanked back to his feet harshly by his hair, Lestinel keeping a firm grip on his hair with one hand and putting an archangel blade at his throat with the other.

"Now you will watch Dean Winchester, for all of the power you've been given, you still can't save your dear little brother."

As one of the lacky's, the one with a red Mohawk and many facial piercings yanks Sam's head back by the hair, the other one, his shaved head reflecting the candle light, whips an archangel blade from his jacket, aiming the glinting tip of it at the base of Sam's throat.

"If it is any consolation, I am sure death will be his salvation."

Lestinel flinches as Ermelda suddenly shrieks at the top of her lungs, and with a harsh flash of white light, sinks to the floor. The two lacky's instantly freeze, eyes flickering over to the open doorway.

Dean and Lestinel do the same, finding Cas and Crowley coming into the room.

Cas stares down Lestinel, who is making sure to keep his hold firm on Dean.

Crowley's curious eyes dart around the filthy and most likely roach infested room, a look of distaste evident on his face.

"You angels sure don't care about where you conduct business any more, do you? Where is your sense or pride?"

Lestinel only chuckles dryly.

"I am not about to be lectured by the king of hell, that I assure you. So if you wouldn't mind leaving-"

"We are not going anywhere without the Winchester's."

Lestinel turns his attention to Cas, then nods over at the two still frozen lacky's.

"Both of you, move away from Sam Winchester."

They both seem beyond confused, but do as he instructs, and Sam's head lolls forward, his breathing sharp and ragged.

Cas then nods at Dean.

"And him."

"I am afraid not, I still have use for this Winchester."

With a huff, Crowley rolls his eyes.

"Wings, why don't you go and help moose, I've got this covered."

Cas hesitates, before rushing to Sam's side and starting to undo the chains.

Lestinel smirks as Crowley steps away from the doorway.

"The King Of Hell is going to challenge me? That is a very poor decision."

Crowley returns the smirk.

"On the contrary, the poor decision is all yours."

Crowley whistles sharply, and Dean feels Lestinel immediately tense behind him.

The heavy padding of paws is heard just outside of the room, and a hell hound the size of Crowley hovers in the doorway, its red eyes glinting as it snarls, spittle dripping from it's fangs.

Dean takes advantage of Lestinel's fear, elbowing him harshly in the stomach and throwing himself out of the way.

As Lestinel quickly regains his composure, Crowley turns towards the enormous beast at his side.

"SICK EM BOY!"

The hell hound snarls before leaping forward, and Lestinel screams, throwing his arm up in an attempt to shield himself as it's jagged teeth begin to tear at his flesh.

Dean shakes himself alert, wiping at the blood covering his face, and stumbling his way over to where Cas is, the chains now dropped to the floor.

Sam is still seated in the chair, his long hair covering his face.

The sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone echo around the room, as Cas quickly checks Sam over for any fatal wounds.

Seemingly finding none, Cas throws one of Sam's arm across his shoulders, before glancing over at Dean.

"Help me with him."

Dean doesn't need telling twice, helping hold Sam up by his other arm, and they make their way over to the doorway.

Crowley smiles at them both on the way past.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to make good us of what you gave me, Castiel."

Castiel nods, his expression steely, and pushes on. Dean's stomach flips uncertainly, and they make their way out of the now eerily silent building, Cas leading them to where the parked car is now situated.

As they gently load Sam into the back seat, Dean pushes Cas back against the car roughly.

"Dean, what are you-"

"What did you give him?"

Cas sigh heavily, then stares at the concrete below.

"Dean-"

"GOD DAMMIT CAS TELL ME!"

Cas still stares down at the ground, so Dean grips him by the chin a little harshly and forces him to look at him.

"Cas..._please_."

Cas stares back silently, before he licks his dry lips.

"I gave him what remained of my grace, Dean."

Dean instantly lets go of his chin in shock.

"You...you did what?"

"I did it to save your brother."

Running a hand over his face, his eyes start to sting.

"Dean."

Dean quickly turns away, his shoulders starting to shake.

Damn it, this is his fault. He should've been stronger, strong enough to stop Cas giving up what remained of who he was, and strong enough to save Sam, and-

A pair of warm hands caressing his face brings him out of his jumbled thoughts, and his eyes snap open, to be meet by concerned blue ones.

"Dean, none of this is your fault."

Dean's chokes back a sob, willing himself to stop acting like such a freakin crybaby.

"Cas-"

"It's not, do you understand me? I chose to give it up, and I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Dean swallows thickly, a single tear managing to escape and cascada down his cheek.

"Why? Why would you do that?"

Cas smiles up at him warmly, his thumb now gently caressing Dean's bloodied cheek.

"Because I love you, Dean Winchester."

Dean's mouth gapes open, but before he can respond, a pained groan from the back seat breaks them both out of the moment, and Cas's hands fall from Dean's face.

"We must get your brother back and tend to his injuries, and your's."

Dean can only nod dumbly in response, the words Cas just uttered ricocheting around in his mind.

**_I love you, Dean Winchester._**

* * *

**-Flashback-**

Stumbling out of the bar he'd just spent most of the night downing shots in, Dean shrugs into his coat, the chilly night air seeping into his skin.

He can't be bothered to go and check into a seedy motel, so he'll just spend the night in his car.

He makes his way down the few deserted blocks to his car, fishing for his car keys in his coat pocket.

As he reaches the car, which is parked just outside of a dark alley, he senses someone approaching from within the alley.

His hand quickly coils around the first blade stuck into his waistband, but before he can unhook it he is shoved roughly up against the car by his coat.

Dean growls, recognizing his attacker immediately.

"_Cain_."

Cain, his silvery hair now reaching his shoulders, doesn't loosen his grip, his hard eyes boring into Dean's furious and drunken ones.

"Dean Winchester."

Dean pries Cain's hands off of him, shoving him back roughly and putting some distance between them both.

"What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

Cain shoves his hands into his long black trench coat, his breath ghosting into the night air.

"No, I'm afraid not. As for what I'm doing here, I've come to give you a warning."

"A warning, huh? About what?"

"This path you are taking. If you continue, I will be forced to put a stop to you."

Dean arches an eyebrow, before a huge smirk plays on his lips.

"Oh, you're threatening me now? Sorry Cain, but I'm the one with the mark now, not you. You should remember that. Now fuck off, I'm too drunk and too tired to put up with your shit."

Cain narrows his eyes, before an archangel blade drops from his sleeve.

With a sigh, Dean unhooks the first blade from his waistband.

"You really want to die tonight, don't you Cain?"

"I will not let you keep killing like this."

"And why the hell do you even care?"

Cain glances down at the ground, before surprisingly turning on his heel and starting to walk back down the dark alley.

Dean watches him dumbly for a few moments, before he finally snaps out of it.

"HEY WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?"

Cain remains completely silent as he disappears into the night, leaving Dean standing at the mouth of the alley dumbfounded.

What the fuck?

With a grunt, Dean leans back against the car, his head beginning to ache.

**-End flashback-**

* * *

**Damn, been a while since I worked on this story, but I got inspired to write some more of it.**

**Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it :)**


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